Falling Like Music
by smoking-tulips
Summary: When his son showed an interest in ballet, Erik didn't think it would lead to anything for him. [NorMona Ballet dancer AU]
1. Chapter 1

A.N: this started because an Anon sent me the idea on tumblr. It was too cute to pass up. 

* * *

When Halldór had asked to join a dance group, Erik had been a little surprised to say the least. But beyond that supportive.

He was glad his son was more interested in dance than violent sports that would likely just end in broken bones (unlike his nephew who seemed to favour speed and pain).

After a little research he decided an open day at a dance centre was the best bet, that way Halldór could try several types of dance and pick the one he liked the best.

Erik had to smile as Halldór bounced up and down in excitement as they waited in the grand hall.

He glanced over the various posters.  
Tango, tap dance, ballroom, street dance, ballet, and a bunch of other dances he figured were possibly aimed more at adults.  
"Any idea what you want to try first?" Erik asked and Halldór nodded eagerly.

"Ballet," he whispered.

"Ballet?" Erik was surprised, but went along with it. "Well then, let's find the teacher for that shall we?"

Halldór nodded again, holding onto his father's hand tightly.

The door to where ballet was being taught was clearly marked, and as they peered inside Erik figured Halldór would probably like it.  
The majority of kids there were girls, most of them in white or pink leotards, but Erik spotted two little boys at the very end of the room.

"Looks like you're not the only boy here," Erik smiled and crouched down to Halldór's level.  
"Who don't you go in and say hi?"

"No." Halldór whispered and his his face in the crook of Erik's neck, too shy to venture in alone.

"Come on, they all look very friendly," Erik patted his son's hair, hoping he'd feel more brave after talking to the other children.

"Oh, is this a potential new recruit?" A soft voice spoke and Erik looked up towards the speaker.

"Ah yes, hello," Erik stood up, Halldór now clinging firmly to his neck and refusing to let go.  
However, as he stood up to his full height he realised just how petite the other adult was.

"My name is Erik, and this is my son Halldór. He really wanted to try ballet," Erik explained as he tried to pry Halldór off himself.

"Oh that's wonderful. I'm Cécile, I run most of the ballet classes here, including this pre-ballet class for 4 to 7 year old kids," the woman held out her hand for Erik to shake.

"Pleased to meet you," Erik shook her hand and offered a half smile in her direction.  
"Hear that little man?" Erik whispered to Halldór, "This lovely lady is the one who can teach you how to dance. Say hi."

"Hi..." Halldór whispered softly to Cécile before promptly hiding his face in his father's shirt once more.

"He's a little shy around strangers... sadly got that from me," Erik sighed.

"Don't worry, most children start off like that," Cécile smiled, "Why don't you both come in and sit and watch first and then Halldór can come join when he feels like it?"

"Sounds good to me, what do you think Halldór?" Erik asked softly.

Halldór nodded eagerly, but refused to be put back down on the floor. Erik rolled his eyes and motioned for Cécile to show the way.

She moved elegantly and Erik wasn't sure who was more exited to see people dance – himself or his son.

He sat cross-legged against one wall with Halldór in his lap.  
Cécile smiled at them before making the kids line up against the mirrored wall with a long metal bar attached to it.

"Sure you don't want to go warm up with them?" Erik whispered as Cécile instructed the children to limber and warm up properly.

Halldór shook his head.

However, it didn't take long for his little feet to get restless, and with a few words of encouragement from his father, Halldór ran across the room.

"Oh how wonderful," Cécile cooed, "Class, this is Halldór, he might be joining our group, so be nice to him."

The whole class replied with a loud 'yes', which made Halldór jump. However, he had no time to run back to his father before the other kids swarmed around him to introduce himself.

Erik watched him carefully, prepared to run over and rescue his little boy if it all became too much for him.  
Much to his delight, Halldór seemed fine with all the attention.  
He didn't speak much, but he had yet to run back to Erik, so that was all in all a good sign.

"All right class," Cécile clapped her hands twice, "Back to your positions."

The kids mumbled but dispersed, one little girl offered her hand to Halldór and helped him line up to the wall with the rest.

Erik chuckled softly to himself as he watched Halldór struggle a little to gain his balance on one leg, but he was proud none the less.

Cécile started the music and went through each exercise over and over again.  
She moved back and forth down the line of children, helping them regain balance or pointing out where to place their weight most effectively.

Erik watched it all with a slight smile, giving Halldór the thumbs-up each time his son glanced over to him to ensure his father was still there.  
However, Erik realised there was little to worry over and he smiled to himself at the sight of Halldór's intense look of concentration. 

By the end of the session Halldór was ecstatic, jumping up and down excitedly and waving his hands around as he spoke to his new friends.  
Erik recognised the tale as the story about trolls he usually told his son at night, and he felt a great sense of pride swell within him.

"He's got quite the potential," Cécile told him with a smile as she handed him more information about the classes. "You'll need to buy some equipment if he wants to continue, but I think he liked it."

"Yes," Erik nodded, "I think so too, thank you for your patience," he added with a nod.

"It's no bother," Cécile smiled warmly up at him, "They're all usually very well behaved so one more child is just nice."

"Next time he might not need me here," Erik chuckled.

"Plenty children like their parents here for the first few times, so don't worry if you have to sit in next time, I don't mind."

"Thank you," Erik gave a polite nod.

"See you next time," Cécile smiled as Halldór ran over to Erik, excitedly telling his father about what he had learnt and who the other children were.

"Yes..." Erik mustered a smile in return before his attention was back to his son, eagerly listening to his stories even if he had witnessed every exercise and dance-based game Halldór had done.

Three days later they both returned, this time Halldór had all the appropriate gear he needed.  
He had insisted on the black leotard, but in terms of shoes he refused to even try on anything else but the pink ones.  
Erik hadn't even tried to argue. He was far to busy dotting over his son who was trying to do do pirouettes across the floor.

"Nice choice of shoes," Cécile smiled and held her own foot out towards Halldór's. "We match," she added with a laugh.  
"Yes," Halldór nodded shyly and hid behind Erik's legs.

"He wanted them because they looked like yours," Erik confirmed and ruffled his sons hair.

"I am going to be shy today," Halldór whispered to his father, although Cécile heard him loud and clear too.

"That's fine," Erik whispered back, "I'm not going yet."

Cécile smiled as she watched Erik comb Halldór's hair with his fingers with such love and devotion she almost felt like she was imposing on their moment simply by being in the same room.

However, it seemed to do the trick, because Halldór had little problems running over to his new friends once Erik had given his a little pep talk.

Cécile shook her head. Some people were just lucky.

She didn't mind that Halldór brought his dad with him.  
The boy wasn't good with new faces, and even people he had spoken to just a few days ago had to be re-evaluated before he trusted them enough to talk.

"Is he always this shy?" Cécile asked during their mid-training break.  
"Yes, takes a good year for him to truly trust someone, hence why I've given up on babysitters..." Erik shrugged.

"Must be hard for your and your partner," Cécile sighed.  
"No, just hard for me," Erik chuckled.

"Oh?" Cécile's love for gossip made her perk up, as rude as it might be.

"Divorced," Erik said bluntly and held his hand up to show there were no rings, "Nothing else, we just didn't work together as anything more than friends."  
"Oh, I'm sorry,"  
"Don't be. She's happy, I'm happy and Halldór is happy. There's no issues with anything really."

"Still... being a single father must be tough,"  
"Nah, no harder than a single mother," Erik laughed softly, "I work from home anyway, so it's more than manageable."

"Ah I see," Cécile smiled, "Still, admirable."  
"Thank you, but it's nothing short of what I should do."

"Just take the damned compliment," Cécile laughed.

"Fine," Erik smirked, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile of her own.

They watched the children run around the room, screams of delight as some of them engaged in a game of tag while some others where playing by the mirrors, making faces and laughing happily at one another's expressions.

"May I ask what it is you do for a living?" Cécile inquired after a while.

"I'm an illustrator," Erik replied, "Anything from small booklets for official companies to full pages for children's books."

"Oh, that explains Halldór's stories then," Cécile laughed softly.

"Yes, I think he's my biggest fan."

"Rightly so," she nodded.

Cécile watched the children play for a minute before clapping her hands and restoring order once more.

"Right, positions please," she said and lined up, "Time to do one more exercise before I let you home."

Erik took a seat on the floor, momentarily tearing his eyes of the little dancers and their instructor to sketch a few figures in his little sketchbook.

Cécile was the most interesting to draw, but he refrained from spending too much time studying her movement just in case it came of as wrong.

Halldór came tumbling over to him at the end of the class, crawling into his lap and peering into his sketchbook.

"Oi, move little man or I can't get up," Erik frowned and blew air at the back of Halldór's head.  
"I wanna see what you drew," Halldór said and grabbed the sketchbook from Erik's hands.

"You can see when we get home and you've had a bath," Erik replied sternly, "We can't sit here all day."

"Well you can but then you have to help me clean," Cécile said from across the room and winked at Erik, who promptly went a few shades of pink and ducked his head down to avoid her spotting it.

"We could do that," Erik smiled and lifted Halldór off him, placing him back down on the floor before standing up and dusting his trousers off.  
"What do you need help with?"

"Oh," Cécile was to embarrassed now to admit it had been a joke, "You could sweep the floor so it's ready for the next class, but only if it's not too much bother..."

"Where do you keep the broom?" Erik smiled.

"Out to the corridor and down to your left, second door on the right is where all cleaning supplies are kept," Cécile pointed.  
Erik nodded and left the room, and Cécile realised she was now alone with Halldór.

The little boy was humming to himself as he flipped through the pages of his father's sketchbook, lost in his own little world of an imaginative five year old.

Cécile watched him flip through, captivated by the amount of life the lines held.

"Wow," she said, realising too late she had spoken out loud.

"Dad makes pretty art," Halldor said and held the book up for her to look at, "Look, he made a princess!"

Cécile took he sketchbook with great care and studied the drawing.  
Her cheeks flushed red as she realised the 'princess' in question was a ballerina and held an uncanny resemblance to herself. From the shape of her glasses to the length of her plait.

"It's very nice," she said softly and handed the book back.

"Dad draws really good dragons and trolls too," Halldór said, shyness long forgotten as he showed off his father's artwork.  
Cécile wasn't sure what made her more happy, the pride on Erik's face over his son's dancing or the look of pride and admiration Halldór held for his father.  
'How dare they be so cute?' she thought to herself.

"This the one?" Erik interrupted her thoughts as he returned with a broom.

"Ah, yes, Thank you," Cécile smiled, finding the situation a little strange.  
Although it was nice.  
Halldór placed the book into his father's bag and ran across the floor, eager to help Erik clean.

Cécile watched them sweep the dance floor, Erik doing a very neat job while simultaneously praising Halldór for helping – although Cécile wasn't really sure sitting on the broom counted as helping.

"There," he said once the whole surface was as good as dust and dirt free, "All done I think. Does it look okay?"

"Yes, thank you very much," Cécile thanked him in earnest, "And thank you too Halldór," she bent down a little to praise the little boy, who for once smiled very sweetly up at her with no hesitation.

"I'd love to stay and help more, but this little man needs his dinner and a bath," Erik apologised.

"No, no, that's fine. I'll see you both on Friday."

"Yes," Erik said, "Unless this brave dancer dares to go alone."

"Of course I do," Halldór stuck his tongue out at his father, but Erik just laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Good, good," Cécile laughed.

She was almost glad when they both left, relieved to have a few minutes to herself to sort out her thoughts.  
Honestly, she was a grown woman, there was no need to feel such silly things as butterflies in her stomach.

Erik was divorced and a father.  
Cécile had no intentions of ruining the adorable family relationship the two of them had.  
Yet, she couldn't help but feel a little jealous over the love the two of them had for one another.  
A picture perfect relationship really, and Cécile really wished she could have something like it too.

There wasn't much time to ponder the thought, she had other classes to teach before she could go home.  
Dance and music were perfect to lose yourself in, all attention of the rhythm and her own body.

By the time all her students were home and the rooms were clean and locked up, Cécile was tired and ready for a hot bath and a nice meal.

Take out in front of the TV didn't really appeal to her, nor did cooking anything complicated, so in the end Cécile settled for left over lasagne.

Her feet were aching but it was all worth it.  
The children's faces when they mastered a new move, or how much joy dance brought to their faces never stopped making her smile.

Each class was important, and she wouldn't trade her job away for anything else right now.

However; it was almost unfair how cute Erik and Halldór were.  
Cécile pressed a pillow to her face and tried to stop thinking about both of them.

It was like watching a painfully cheesy and family friendly movie she decided.  
But god damn it, she couldn't look away.

What was worse; she found herself looking forward to Friday more so than she looked forward to the weekend.  
How pathetic," she muttered to herself.

Halldór attended two more sessions with Erik in tow, each time his father was nothing short of pleasant if not a little quiet.

After that Cécile only saw Erik when he dropped off and picked Halldór back up after the lessons.

She found herself making excuses of some sorts to talk to him.

"Halldór did really well today," or "Halldór has gotten a lot better."  
Little comments that she noticed made Erik almost beam with pride.

However, her triumphant moment was when she approached the both of them at the end of Friday's session.

"Ever heard of Per Gynt?" She asked.

"Ah yes. I'm familiar with the story," Erik nodded.

"And the ballet dance that goes with it?" she added.

"Eh, no..."

"Look it up," Cécile smiled warmly, "It has trolls," she winked at Halldór, giggling softly as she saw his face light up.

The following Tuesday Halldór came skipping into the room, humming a tune Cécile recognised almost far too well.

"In the hall of the mountain king?" she asked Erik as he stepped inside the dance hall with Halldór's bag of gear.

"Yes. He's demanded it be on repeat all weekend..."

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

"Nah," Erik shrugged, "Don't be. I rather like the music."

"Oh that's good. I was worried I'd have to buy you dinner to make up for it," she laughed, but promptly stopped when she noticed Erik was blushing.

"Uh, no need," he replied hurriedly.

This was honestly too much for her poor heart to handle.

"You're ridiculously cute," she giggled and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Well Halldór had to get that too from someone," Erik laughed a little nervously, avoiding her gaze for a moment.

"Seems you gave him a lot of things,"

"Part from love of dancing. I was never that good at it myself," Erik shrugged, "But I'm glad he's enjoying himself. If it makes him happy then it's worth it."

"He could go far if he wanted to," Cécile praised. Halldór was a bright little boy, and once everyone got past the initial shyness he was talkative and energetic.

"That would be something," Erik chuckled, "I'd love to see him be able to move as gracefully as you."

"Why thank you," Cécile felt a little blush spread across her cheeks. Maybe she should ask him out for a drink.

"You're creative in other ways,"

"Suppose so. Drawing is at least something to take pride in."

"You're good," Cécile added, "Halldór showed me a lot of the ones in your little sketchbook," although she didn't mention seeing the sketch of herself.

"Heh," Erik let out an amused sigh, "Yeah. It keeps me occupied. I prefer to people-watch than actively interact with everyone around me, and with a drawing pad I can interact slowly at my own pace. Draw what I like and what I find interesting."

"So whenever inspiration strikes?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, "It can happen anywhere and any time, and artist is always prepared," he patted the pockets in his jacket and gave her a small smile.

"I'm not even going to ask how many pens and pencils you carry," she laughed.

"I don't know myself..." Erik said as he patted himself down somewhat, "At least ten, maybe more,"

"Goodness, where are you when I need you at the bank or something?"

"Probably at home slumped over my desk with a cup of coffee," Erik smiled slyly.

"Pft, I don't doubt that for some reason," Cécile tried to hide her smile behind her hand.

"Anyway, let me not keep you or your students up and more, I'll come pick my little troll up later,"  
"Don't worry," Cécile smiled warmly at him, "I'll make sure he's not turned to stone by the time you come back."

"Oh don't worry about that. At least if he's stone I can get him to bed a lot easier," Erik winked at her before waving goodbye to his son.

Cécile sighed softly once he'd left.

She was crushing on him badly, and the severity of the damned butterflies was beginning to dawn on her.

With a deep breath she made up her mind; she would ask him to join her for dinner or a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Mustering up the courage to ask Erik out was a whole other story than just accepting she was badly crushing on the man.  
Every time she thought she had talked herself into being brave enough she backed out at the last minute.

No time ever seemed to be the right time.

She didn't have the heart or guts to interrupt Halldór and him when he came to pick them up, but it was really the only time she had time to talk to him for longer than a few seconds.

Cécile sighed as she braided her hair in front of the large dance hall mirror.

'Maybe it wasn't mean to be?' she thought to herself.

Her self pitying was interrupted by a familiar set of footsteps walking down the hallway, she knew who they belonged to long before they entered the dance hall.

"Hi!" Halldór said brightly as he skipped inside, Erik close behind as he offered her a smile and a little wave.

"You're early," Cécile remarked, a little surprised as Erik was usually dead on time these days.

"Ah yes, sorry if it's a problem I just have a favour to ask," Erik scratched the back of his head and looked a little embarrassed.

"Oh," Cécile was certain the butterflies in her stomach had all turned to stone. "What is it?"

"Could you maybe keep Halldór here for a little while linger after the lesson?" Erik asked softly, glancing over at Halldór who was busy dancing to himself in front of the mirror. "I have a meeting with a publisher and I doubt I'll be finished in time to pick him up at five."

"Ah I see..." Cécile tapped her index finger against her chin and smiled softly, "I think I can manage that," she giggled, the butterflies back to full force.

"Thank you so much," Erik looked visibly relieved and less tense. "I'll try to get away as soon as possible, but sometimes I can't leave as early as I want to," he sighed.

"No, no, I understand," she smiled, "Don't worry, he can join in or sit and watch the older group's lesson. One little boy won't be a problem at all," Cécile reassured him.

"Thank you," Erik sighed in relief, "I'll make it up to you."

"I'm sure you will," Cécile suppressed a grin, mustering a warm smile in its place. 

"Halldór," Erik turned to his son, "You behave until I come back, okay?"

Halldór turned and nodded eagerly at his father.

"Good man," Erik smiled and waved goodbye.

Cécile watched him leave, pondering what she would do with Halldór once the class was over.  
He was well-behaved, so she wasn't worried he'd run off, but she still worried he'd object to being left for longer than usual.

"Excited for today then?" she asked him, crouching down to get a little closer to his eye level.

Halldór nodded.

"Maybe you can help plan the Christmas dance afterwards too?"

More eager nodding from Halldór, which made Cécile smile.

"Good, someone has to tell me how to make trolls look real,"

"We're gonna have trolls?" Halldór asked, eyes wide but voice low.

"Yes. I figured your group could do a little dance from your favourite show,"

"Troll king," Halldór whispered.

"Yes, everyone loves the music, so I'm sure a few tails on your outfits will be welcomed,"

"Yes," Halldór nodded, "Tails and unruly hair and dirt everywhere!" he threw his hands up in the air.

"Is that what trolls look like?" Cécile smiled, amused by how easily Halldór spoke about fantasy creatures.

"Yes. Dad says I look like a troll child every time I've been playing in the garden or when I've had a nap," he replied and nodded as if those things were scientific facts.

"I see," Cécile giggled. "Your father must be a troll expert,"

"He is, he's fought them many times!" Halldór smiled proudly.

"Ahhh, of course," she smiled. A wild imagination in someone so young was a given, but Cécile was certain Erik was fuelling Halldór's fantasies more so than most parents.

"They're sneaky, even if they're big. So you have to be careful when it's dark," Halldór explained.

"I will keep that in mind," she nodded in return. "You're clearly the expert," she added with a smile.

"No. Dad is. But I'm second in command!" Halldór bounced up and down as he spoke. It never failed to impress her just how much energy small children had.

"Of course," Cécile nodded wisely, as if such a statement was common knowledge. Feed their imagination, that was what she believed.

However, when Halldór proceed to ramble on about how one properly caught trolls, Cécile couldn't help but maybe think Erik should perhaps tone down the fantasy stories by a fraction.  
He only stopped talking when the other children arrived, but Cécile caught him whispering to some of the other children during practise about his newest adventure with creatures no one else ever saw.

His imagination was at least useful to get everyone excited for the upcoming parental performance.  
If Halldór's tall tales of trolls and faeries didn't get the others excited for The Hall of the Mountain king then nothing would.

Much to her surprise, the next class of older children also got dragged into his imaginary world of troll hunting.  
Veronique, an 11 year old girl who Cécile was certain would go incredibly far in ballet (and not just because they were related), had Halldór chatting about his adventures as a brave warrior within a minute of meeting him.

Cécile had to stifle a giggle as Veronique let Halldór braid her long dark hair. It didn't turn out very nice, but she praised him none the less.  
With six years between them Cécile would have pegged them to be as different as night and day – yet Veronique seemed to be more than content to keep Halldór occupied while she continued helping the others with their practise.

"I'm sorry you got stuck with babysitting him," Cécile apologised to her once the lesson was over.  
"Oh no. Don't be. He's so cute and I never get the chance to be a big sister to anyone!" Veronique laughed and ruffled Halldór's pale hair.

"Veronique is a princess," Halldór whispered.

"What?" Veronique gave him a stern glare, "Why aren't I queen?"

"Cécile is queen," Halldór whispered back and pointed to the older woman.

"Oh, Fair enough," Veronique laughed, "I can accept that."

"Who's king then?" Cécile inquired with a light smile, uncertain why Halldór had assigned royal titled to them but too curious to let it just slide by her.

"Dad of course," Halldór said and tried to look stern.

"Oohh," Veronique whispered, a wide grin spread across her face as her gaze moved from Halldór to Cécile.

Cécile had seen that grin before.  
Veronique's father (and her brother Francis) possessed that very same smile. Of course Veronique had inherited it.

"That means Cécile and your dad are married," Veronique whispered slyly to Halldór, although Cécile heard every word, her cheeks flaring a bright pink at the words.

"Hmmm," Halldór scrunched up his face into a frown, "That's not bad is it?" he asked them both, his mind failing to see why this was an issue at all.

"Not at all," Veronique singsonged happily.

Halldór giggled happily, unaware of Cécile's burning cheeks or Veronique's knowing smirk.

"I assume Halldór has told you all about his groups dance recital?" Cécile cleared her throat and hoped to diverge both the children's attention.

"Oh yes. The Hall of the Troll king?" Veronique's eyes lit up.

"Mountain King," Cécile corrected, "You were close enough."

"Ah yes," Veronique nodded, "He told me. I'm so excited for it. I'd love to dance as a scary troll lady or something,"

"Oh..." Cécile paused, "I thought your group was doing something from Swan lake..."

"Psht," Veronique snorted, "That's old and overdone. I think we should all do something with trolls. It sounds great,"

"Okay..." Cécile sighed, she really had brought it upon herself.  
"I suppose we could do a Per Gynt themed performance for all the groups," a little adaptation would be necessary to make it work for the youngest members, but none the less; it could work.

All of this just because she tried impressing one single father.

"Yay!" Veronique threw her arms up in the air, and Halldór followed suit, although he hadn't quite caught on to what they where cheering for yet.

"We're going to need new costumes for everyone then," Cécile mumbled to herself.

"Dad can probably help," Veronique interrupted.

"Probably," Cécile replied, "But I'll need more than him. Francis is good at making clothes, but designing a whole array of costumes for ballet dancers? No. I'm not sure I can trust him with that task as well," as much as she loved her brother and his sense of fashion – Cécile didn't want to lump designing and making almost 50 costumes onto her brother. That didn't seem fair.

"We can all help maybe?" Veronique suggested.

"I might make you all find pieces of old clothing at home we can use," Cécile thought out loud, trying to figure out how many costumes could be made in one day by herself and Francis.

"I'm sure if everyone brings in some old clothes it will be easy!"

"I can tell you're my brother's daughter," Cécile laughed softly. It was always nice to have someone so chirpy and cheerful on her side.

"I'll help too!" Halldór exclaimed, making both Veronique and Cécile giggle.

"Of course you will," Cécile said with a smile, "Someone has to help us make sure we get the costumes accurate, right?"

Halldór's eyes went wide before he nodded so eagerly and excitedly that Cécile was certain he was making himself dizzy.

"Now we just have to make sure your father helps too," Cécile laughed.

"Make me help with what?" Erik's voice sounded from the doorway, and Cécile whirled around in surprise. Embarrassed that he had overheard her mention him.

"Oh hello Mr Troll Hunter!" Veronique skipped over to him and introduced herself.

"It's actually Sorensen, but hello to you too," Erik smiled and shook her hand. "I assume you've been speaking to my son..."

"Yes. We have," Veronique smiled warmly as Halldór ran over and clung tightly to his father's leg.

"That's very good of you," Erik praised and Veronique beamed with pride.

"Veronique is my niece," Cécile explained, "And I have a feeling she is making her father wait in the car a little longer than usual today..." she tapped her foot against the floor.

"But he's so cute I can't leave," Veronique whined and pointed to Halldór.

"Yes, he is," Cécile sighed, "But I can hear my phone buzzing and I bet you its your father wondering why you're not outside,"

"Fiiiiine," Veronique frowned, bending down to give Halldór a goodbye hug.  
To Erik's great surprise Halldór happily complied.

He watched as Veronique skipped out the room.  
Taken aback at how someone like that had won his sons affection. He seldom liked such outgoing people that quickly.

"Well that was an eye-opener," Erik mumbled and diverted his attention back to his son who once more was now firmly clinging to his leg.  
"Did you make a new friend little man?"

"Yes," Halldór nodded.

"Well she seems like a very nice lady,"

"She is. She's a princess,"

"Oh really?" Erik smiled.

"Yes. Cécile is queen,"

"Who's king?" Erik asked, and Cécile felt her cheeks flare up once more. She knew what was coming.

"You," Halldór laughed happily.

Erik's face took on a colour that matched Cécile's, although he tried very hard to hide it by tilting his head and hiding his face with his blonde hair.

"Oh, of course she is," he managed to stammer forward as he bent down to pick his son up.

"Thank you for looking after him," he said in earnest once he had composed himself.

"It was no bother. Veronique did most of the work for me," Cécile laughed a little nervously, trying to gather up the courage to ask him to dinner.  
With Halldór in his arms they both towered over her, but she couldn't let it deter her.  
Not now.  
It was such a golden opportunity.

"Still, thank you," Erik smiled, "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you then please tell me."

"Well..." Cécile smiled, taking a deep breath, "I might have one favour to ask of you in turn,"

"Of course," Erik nodded.

"Well, make it two," Cécile added thoughtfully.

"I'm all ears..."

"I'm going to need some help designing and making costumes for the upcoming parent dance recital. Would you be able to lend a hand?"

"Of course. I'm not that bad with thread and needle," Erik laughed, "I'd be happy to help."

"Fantastic, that's just what I needed to hear," Cécile smiled brightly.  
"The second is more of a personal request,"

"Uh.. okay?" Erik looked a little sceptical.

"I'd like to request that you join me for dinner, tomorrow if possible. Halldór is of course also invited," Cécile smiled, her body tense as she waited for a reply.

Erik was shocked.  
Disbelief and surprise was plainly written on his face, and he didn't snap out of it until Halldór gently tugged at his hair.

"I, uh. Well..." he stammered, flustered and unable to form a coherent sentence, "Yes," he finally managed to say, "Certainly. That would be nice," he added a little more composed and coherent.

"Wonderful!" relief washed over Cécile at his reply. "Why don't we meet outside the Cinema tomorrow and we'll walk together to the restaurant?"

"Uh, yes. Sure. How nicely should I, I mean, we dress?"

"Suits and ties if you have," Cécile winked, "I know some people you see," she giggled.

"That doesn't sound ominous at all..." Erik glanced worriedly at Halldór, "I think she's up to something," he whispered to his son, although loud enough for Cécile to still hear.

"But she's not an evil queen," Halldór whispered back.

"No. True. Shall we trust her?"

"Yes," Halldór concluded after contemplating. "If there's ice cream," he added.

"Ice cream and cakes," Cécile laughed. "Plenty of it even," she smiled at them both.

"Ah well then we're helpless," Erik sighed dramatically, "We will have to comply,"

"Ice cream!" Halldór shouted excitedly. 

"Yes yes," Erik tried to calm him.

"Meet you there at six?" Cécile suggested.

"Sure," Erik nodded, still trying to calm Halldór down. The kid now rambling on about how much ice cream he could eat.

"Wonderful," Cécile's spirit soared, the butterflies in her stomach alive and well.  
"You behave Halldór," she smiled coyly, "Only well behaved troll hunters get ice cream," she warned, and to her surprise and Erik's delight Halldór went silent.

They walked out together, Erik waiting for her to lock the doors up before he bid her farewell.

She waved at them as they drove away. Relieved and happy it had actually worked.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," she hummed to herself as he headed home.

She now had a little less than 24 hours to book a table, arrange and decide on her outfit and look nice for their 'date'.  
Cécile had an extra spring in her step as she walked.  
Maybe it was the wind or the butterflies – either way she was certain she was floating.

She hadn't been this excited for a date since her teens, and an added bonus this time was that any awkward silence would surely be filled with Halldór's stories.

This couldn't be any better, she thought to herself.  
It was simply picture perfect. 


	3. Chapter 3

Trying to dress an excited five year old in what was deemed 'acceptable' for a grown up date was much more difficult than Erik had anticipated.  
No amount of stories, pleading or even bribing could make Halldór wear his nice clothes.

"They're itchy!" Halldór screamed and once more tried to hide behind the sofa.

"Where?" Erik looked at the shirt with disbelief. He had removed every single tag there was, run his fingers over every seam to check for anything that could be irritating his son's skin, yet found nothing.

"Everywhere," Halldór's muffled voice said from behind the sofa.

Erik sighed and tossed the shirt away.

"Fine," he grumbled, giving up on the nice clothes. "What do you want to wear then?" he tried, hoping if Halldór got a choice he'd at least not have to bring his son to a restaurant wearing PJ's or an over-sized sweater – both which were viable options if the five-year old's usual fashion sense was anything to go by.

Erik cursed his own sense of fashion as he tied his tie properly.  
Halldór was doomed to wear hand-me-downs forever if he kept this thing up.

"This!" Halldór said triumphantly, standing in the doorway to Erik's room holding a dress.

"Sure," Erik said with a smile, delighted that it hadn't been the dinosaur costume his uncle bought him for his last birthday.

His brother's daughter was around the same age as Halldór, and had left a lot of clothes lying around. Halldór usually just tied the dresses around his neck to look like a superhero (or bird), but tonight he was adamant a dress was the only thing he would wear.

"I'm pretty like Cécile now!" Halldór giggled and twirled around on the floor as Erik brushed his teeth.

"Yes you are," Erik replied, trying not to laugh at his son's antics too much.

"Can I wear my ballet shoes?" Halldór asked hopefully.

"No," Erik shook his head.

"Why not?" Halldór pouted.

"Because the shoes might get dirty and then you can't dance in them," Erik explained, crouching down to tame Halldór's unruly hair.

"Oh," Halldór frowned, but appeared to accept that reply.  
Although it took Erik another ten minutes to get Halldór's nice shoes on before he could strap him into his car seat and drive into town.

He almost wanted to beg Halldór to behave, but knew it would just be counterproductive.  
Instead he lifted him out of the seat and gave him a peck to the check.

"Excited?" he asked.

Halldór nodded.

"Good. So am I," Erik admitted sheepishly as he locked the car and walked towards the cinema.

He couldn't see Cécile outside, but he didn't want to walk inside yet either.

"Dad," Halldór mumbled softly into the crook of his neck. "I'm cold."

"Dresses aren't as warm as trousers when you don't want to wear anything but your underwear under them," Erik sighed and put Halldór down on the ground for a moment until he could shrug off his suit jacket and bundle his son up in it.  
"Better?" he asked once Halldór was snuggled inside the jacket and in his arms.

"Yes," Halldór giggled happily and flashed his father a toothy grin.

"Oh my, am I late?" Cécile muttered to herself as she spotted the pair down the road. Glancing at her watch she was leased to see she wasn't – Erik was simply early.

"My apologies," she said once she got close enough. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long."

"No, no," Erik smiled. "This little bundle of fabric decided he was cold," he glanced at his son who waved excitedly at Cécile from in-between the fabric of his jacket.

"Well we better get to the restaurant then," Cécile laughed. "Follow me," she chirped brightly.

Erik walked beside her, Halldór still in his arms – which Cécile found a mix of annoying and endearing.  
Truth be told she'd love to interlock her arm with Erik's, but that was not happening as long as Halldór clung to his father's neck.  
However; Cécile couldn't find the scene anything less than adorable.

"I hope you like Italian," she said as they rounded the corner.

"Yes…" Erik said before stopping dead in his tracks.  
"Wait," he blinked and read the restaurant sign. "We're eating here?" the disbelief in his voice was enough to make Cécile grin.

"Of course," she giggled. "I know the owners," she reassured him before beckoning him inside.

Erik stepped inside, flinching a little as the door slammed shut behind him.

A rather angry looking man was glaring at him and Erik instinctively stepped a little closer to Cécile.  
Business lunches he could do. This place was far too fancy for his liking.  
White table clothes? Never a good sign.

"We have a dress code," the man said rather bitterly.

"And it's really cold outside," Cécile replied and smiled at the man. "He's with me, Romano. Calm down," she tutted at the taller man and Erik was pleased to see the guy visibly shrink under her glare.  
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought to himself.  
Halldór seemed oblivious to it all at least, which he was very thankful for.  
"Are you going to tell me you're denying us entry because he wanted to keep his son warm?" Cécile tapped her foot against the floor and glared.

"No, of course not. Follow me," the man smiled politely. "I've got your table ready for you. Window seat. As requested," he added and bowed courteously as he pulled out a chair for Cécile.

Erik was left to pull out his own chair, placing Halldór down into it before removing his jacket.

Cécile's eyes widened as she spotted the pink and white dress Halldór was sporting.

"What a lovely outfit," she said.

"Thank you," Halldór blushed and stared at the table cloth shyly.

"I believe he wanted to match you," Erik chuckled as he took a seat himself opposite Cécile.

"Oh I see," Cécile smiled, genuinely flattered. "However, you're not quite there," she hummed.

"Sorry," Halldór mumbled quietly.

"No, no, don't be," Cécile shook her head and undid the ribbon in her hair. "Here," she said and handed it to Halldór. "Now it's complete," she smiled.

Halldór seemed ecstatic by the ribbon, hugging it tightly before demanding Erik to tie it in his hair.

"Okay, okay," Erik laughed and carefully tried to tie the ribbon into his son's hair.  
It took him two tries before he gave up and tied it around his head like a headband instead.

"There," Erik said, "If you want to wear it like Cécile you'll have to grow your hair out."

"I like my hair short," Halldór pouted.

"It looks just as good like that," Cécile said helpfully, pleased to see Halldór smile happily at her words.

"Prettiest kid in the restaurant," Erik said and tickled Halldór's stomach gently.

And the only one, Cécile added in her mind as she glanced around the restaurant and the sea of old faces.  
Some people were staring at them, but quickly averted their gaze when they realised she had spotted them.

'Idiots,' she thought to herself. Their table was by far the best and the most entertaining.

"I'm driving so no wine for me…" Erik mumbled. "But if you want wine then please be my guest," he added and smiled slightly.

"Oh no. I can't indulge on wine on my own when I have company, that simply wouldn't be right," Cécile shook her head and folded the wine list and placed it down, opting to look at the food instead.

"Are you sure?" Erik asked, feeling like he was perhaps ruining her dinner plans.

"I'm sure. Besides, drinking in front of children is a bad idea," she winked at him.

"Eh, well. Yes," Erik shrugged and glanced at Halldór who was pretending to read the Italian menu.

"Hello Cécile," a warm and friendly voice said.

"Hello Feliciano," Cécile greeted with a warm smile.

"Are you ready to order?" He asked.

"I am, but not sure about my date," Cécile giggled and turned to Erik who was peering at the menu and looking a little perplexed.

"My Italian is a bit rusty," he admitted. "I'm better at German," he added sheepishly.

"Well I would like the tagliatelle with tomato sauce please," Cécile closed her menu and handed it back to Feliciano.

"And for the gentleman and little lady?" Feliciano directed his question towards Erik.

"Boy," Erik corrected him.

"Oh, my apologies. Of course," Feliciano slapped his hand across his own face, "I do apologise. Should have guessed," he added with a light laugh. "I own some lovely dresses myself," he winked at Erik, who just smiled politely in turn.

"I want pizza," Halldór said, completely oblivious to the waiters slip up.

"Pizza for him then, and I'll try the risotto," Erik said as he took the menu away from Halldór and handed it back to the waiter.

"Certainly. And what can I get you for drinks?"

"Sparkling water for us two please," Cécile pointed at Erik.

"Apple juice for him if you have any, please," Erik said and gestured towards Halldór.

"Of course," Feliciano smiled brightly. "I won't be long."

Cécile wasn't sure what to say to break the silence, she was actually rather content just sitting there admiring Erik for a while.  
He was easy on the eyes.  
She could easily just admire him in silence, but that was sure to make him very uncomfortable.  
Or inflate his ego.  
Cécile wasn't sure if either was a good option.

"I like the choice of colour," she said to Halldór who was patting his hands all over the white table cloth, making little drumming noises.

"Hu?" Halldór looked up from the table and over at her.

"Your dress. It looks very cute,"  
"Thank you," Halldór beamed before going back to making nonsensical noises.

"It's his cousin's," Erik explained. "I babysit my brothers' kid a few times and she's left a few clothes at our place."

"Oh I see. Same age as Halldór then I take it?"

"Yes," Erik nodded. "A few months older but not by much."

"How sweet," Cécile giggled, looking over towards Halldór who was muttering something to himself.

"Your food," Felaciano interrupted with a smile.

"Thank you," Cécile replied, trying to hide her amusement as Erik almost had to dive to prevent Halldór from splashing tomato sauce all over the table and himself as he eagerly reached for a slice of pizza.

"We do not play with food," Erik reminded his son and Halldór apologised very quietly.

Cécile stifled a laugh as Erik produced a child sized plastic fork and knife for Halldór from inside his suit pocket.

"Magic pockets," she giggled.

"Yeah. It comes with fatherhood," Erik smiled. "I also have wet-wipes, napkins and, uh," he paused and rummaged through his pockets, producing a few small rocks, a feather and what appeared to be cheerios.  
"I am certain I cleaned the pockets out this morning…" Erik muttered to himself.

"Magic pockets," Cécile repeated with a grin. "There's no other explanation," she added.

"No. Clearly not," Erik chuckled.

"Faeries can do it too," Halldór said before taking a large bite of his pizza.

"True," Erik nodded. "Was it perhaps the faeries who said you could eat with your hands too?"

"Yes," Halldór nodded and giggled as he picked up another slice of pizza.

"Don't worry about it. No one will mind," Cécile reassured Erik with a gentle touch to his hand – and an accidental brush of her leg against his.

"Ah, yes, of course," Erik coughed and tried to hide the slow rise of red to his face.  
"This looks really nice," he hurriedly added before taking a bite of his food.

Cécile really wanted to tell him to calm down.  
She really wished she could tell him she'd take him home on the spot if she could – and no amount of him being awkward was going to change it.  
However; to preserve the man's dignity, she simply smiled courtly and focused on eating her own food as daintily as possible

It was Halldór who broke the silence between them.  
The little boy reached over and tugged at his father's sleeve.

"Dad," he whispered. "I wanna try your food," he said.

"Okay," Erik didn't even question it or argue, he just placed a tiny amount on his own fork and fed it to Halldór.  
Cécile was sure she was having heart palpitations from the sheer cuteness.

"I like pizza more," Halldór concluded with a frown before turning his attention to Cécile.  
"Can I try yours too?" he asked carefully.

"Of course," Cécile replied and followed Erik's example, a little worried she'd end up flinging tomato sauce all over Halldór's lovely dress.

Halldór opened wide and happily took a bite of her pasta, and judging by his expression he preferred it over Erik's food.

"Still like pizza better," Halldór said.

"That's fine. But you're good for trying new things," Erik praised and poked Halldór's cheek lightly.  
"I'm proud of you," he added and Halldór positively beamed from the praise.

"Very mature of you," Cécile joined in, finding it far to difficult not to be engaged in Halldór's little adventures in new cuisine.

"I'm an adult," Halldór proclaimed very proudly, straightening up in his chair and smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress.

"In a few years yes," Erik said and ruffled his hair. "But trust me, being a kid is fun too."

Halldór seemed to consider his father's words before nodding.  
"If I was an adult I can't be in Cécile's classes," he mumbled.

"You'd have to hire me as a private tutor," Cécile laughed.

"Does that mean you'd come home to our house and dance there?!" Halldór stood up in his chair and Erik had to hold a hand out to steady Halldór to keep him from tumbling off it.

"Possibly," Cécile giggled.

"You should, you should," Halldór smiled brightly. "Dad got me troll music."

"I got him Edvard Grieg's works on CD," Erik corrected quietly. "He won't stop referring to it as troll music."

"I see," Cécile smiled, unable to quote fathom just how adorable Halldór could be.  
"I should probably get started on making new costumes for our new dance," she added as an after thought. "Not certain where to really start…"

"Basic deigns? Then miniature prototypes?" Erik suggested. "Thought you wanted my help for this," he added with a smile.

"I almost forgot," Cécile sighed. "I keep thinking of you as an illustrator, not a costume designer," she tapped her fingers against the table as she spoke. "Although I suppose if you're good at one you're good at the other?"

"A little," Erik muttered and scratched the back of his head. "I can easily design some outfits, but you should probably have input considering you'll know if it's possible to dance in them or not. I probably have leftover fabric to use for miniatures…"

"I don't think I could say no to such a wonderful offer," Cécile smiled. "Just say the time and day that suits you and I'm sure we can work out something."

"Tonight," Halldór suggested and giggled happily to himself.

"No no," Erik tried very hard not to glare at his son. "You are already awake well past your bedtime."

"How about, hmmm," Cécile went through her mental calendar. "Next Monday? After Dance classes?"

"Uh," Erik fumbled for his phone, checking his calendar before nodding. "Sure. That works."

"Good," Cécile smiled, proud of herself for arranging a second date of sorts with him.

Her attention was diverted by the sound of Halldór snoring.

Erik sighed and shook his head at the sight of the little boy leaning on the table and sleeping soundly with a napkin as a pillow.

"I think maybe his bedtime is now…" Erik chuckled softly.

"Of course," Cécile smiled. "I'll take care of the bill, so just get him home safely."

"Oh but don't you want me to escort you, I mean, it's dark outside and I figured maybe…"

"It will be fine. I need to catch up with Feliciano anyway, he's been smiling something awful at me for the past hour," Cécile laughed.

"Oh, okay," Erik nodded, carefully picking up and bundling Halldór up in his suit jacket again.  
"Do you want your ribbon back?" he whispered.

"No, he can keep it."

"Thank you," Erik said.

"Come here," Cécile stood up and beckoned Erik closer. "Bend down, you're too tall," she added, smirking ever so slightly as Erik complied.  
"Good night," she whispered and pressed a chaste kiss to Erik's cheek.

"Ye-yes, good night. Thank you for tonight," Erik said, cheeks red stained – and not just from the trace of lipstick Cécile had left behind.

"See you Monday," she said as she waved them off.

It took exactly 10 seconds before Feliciano and his brother was at her table.

"Who's he?" Romano demanded to know, already pushing a glass of rose wine towards her.

"A very handsome man," Cécile smiled secretively.

"Yes, we can see that. But details," Feliciano replied.

"Haven't you two got people to attend to?" Cécile smiled smugly behind her glass of wine.

"Eh," Romano waved his hand. "This is more important."

"Of course," Cécile giggled. "But why don't I just join you in the bar and I'll tell you more?"

"Hrm, fine," Romano huffed. "But you only get that glass for free, the others will be triple in price" he added.

"He actually means that you can get the whole bottle," Feliciano whispered in her ear and Cécile smiled. They never changed.


	4. Chapter 4

Feliciano and Romano didn't let her leave until she had told them everything she knew about Erik.  
Much to their displeasure she didn't know exactly how much he earned or if he had a big house.

"So you're going after this DILF and you don't even know if he's rich?" Romano frowned. "Tch, you should do better research," he added.

"Oh please," Cécile brushed him off. "Did you not see how caring he was towards his son?"

"Not really. But I did notice he didn't pick the cheapest option on our menu," Romano scoffed.

"A good sign that," Feliciano piped up with as he wiped down the bar.  
Everyone else had left, and it was just three three of them left – plus Antonio and Fernando working in the kitchen. Cécile could hear them arguing about something from time to time and then silence would fall over the restaurant once more.

"Well, either way," she huffed. "He's gorgeous, kind, caring and so far worth my time."

"He has a kid," Romano hissed.

"Who's the epitome of cute," Cécile replied coolly. "They're both made of faeries and sugar," she added and sent him a stern glare.

"Okay, okay," Romano held his hands up. "I'll take your word for it. But if he hurts you, well then…"

"You won't do anything. Because you can't," Cécile giggled. "But thank you for the offer. Sadly Erik wouldn't believe you if you tried to pull the whole 'we're Italian and therefore totally know the mafia', he's not that stupid,"

"It's worked on a lot of people before," Romano smiled.

"Sure it has, but enough about gossip about me. What about you two?" Cécile leant on the bar counter and smiled smugly at them both.

"I asked Ludwig out!" Feliciano proclaimed proudly.

"Oh well done. What did he do?" Cécile was eager to know where this went.

"He dropped his keys, let go of all the leashes for his dogs and went bright red. It was really cute," Feliciano smiled fondly at the memory.

"And his reply?" she giggled.

"He said yes! Then I had to help him catch his dogs. It was really fun."

"I can imagine," she chuckled. "And you Romano? How did your date with my cousin go?"

"It was fine, but her brother is really, really scary and I think he hates me," Romano frowned.

"Oh don't worry. Maarten just looks mean, he keeps bunnies as pets and spends his free time gardening. He's harmless," Cécile smiled and flicked her braid over her shoulder.

"Harmless to you. You and Anika are good friends too. So of course your big, scary and grumpy cousin will be nice to you," Romano huffed.

"Nonsense. He's still a nice guy with an unfortunate frown," Cécile stifled a laugh.

"Well that Erik guy looked a bit like that too," Romano mused. "Not very many smiles to be found on him."

"Erik's mostly just shy I think…" Cécile hummed softy to herself. "When he thinks no one else is looking he smiles a lot. Especially to his son. Halldór probably monopolises his happy smiles," Cécile laughed at the idea.

"I can't believe you're dating a guy who's got a kid… And not even a rich guy either!" Romano sighed theatrically.

"I think Cécile's grown out of the idea of marrying someone just to bleed them dry," Feliciano said with a smile as he elbowed his brother in the side.

"He's not poor, I know that much," Cécile huffed. "And Halldór is too cute not to like. Besides, I earn more than enough myself these days, so why should I need to bleed someone dry?"

"Extra money for shopping?" Romano suggested with a smirk.

"Nonsense. That's what you and Francis are for," she winked at them both.

"Hm, true," Feliciano giggled. "Romano keeps telling me he thinks you need new shoes."

"Well she does!" Romano gestured wildly towards her feet with a frown. "These are at least a year old!"

"Rude," Cécile huffed.

"If you're really going to woe that man you've gotta get some new footwear," Romano crossed his arms and glared.

"I think I can walk around in slippers. Erik wouldn't notice or care," Cécile laughed softly. "But if you insist…"

"I do," Romano grumbled.

"Lovely, I'll see you next week then," Cécile winked.

"Ten o'clock, sharp," Romano nodded in agreement. "We better be there when the best shops open."

"Noted," Cécile giggled. "Just don't over sleep."

"We won't," Feliciano interjected with a grin.

Cécile left he resultant with a smile that simply could not falter.  
She was excited about so many things at the same time it was impossible to sleep.

She opted for reading a book for half an hour before she could even begin to think about crawling into bed.

Monday couldn't come soon enough.

The weekend passed too slowly in her mind. Sunday dragged on for what seemed like forever no matter how busy she kept herself.  
She couldn't show up to this next meeting empty-handed, and after much consideration Cécile settled for a vintage red wine. If Erik liked this he was surely a keeper – and even Francis would have to agree.

However, much to her dismay, neither Erik not Halldór showed up on Monday.

At first she hoped they were just running late, although eventually she had to give up waiting and start the lesson without the young boy.

A little part of her felt rejected.  
Of course she wasn't she tried to argue as she helped the young kids tidy up the room once the lesson was over.

Surely they were just busy.

Busy with something.

Cécile sighed deeply as she locked up the dance hall.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself.

Dejected, Cécile was just about to head home when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot.

"Hei," Erik said sheepishly as he stepped out of the car. "I'm really sorry," he added.  
"I got very carried away. Halldór caught a bug and hasn't been well all weekend. Little food, next to no sleep and it's just been very stressful," Erik explained quietly.

"Oh," Cécile let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry to hear he's unwell," she added, hoping Erik didn't think she wanted Halldór to be sick.

"I was going to phone you, but I hit a little problem when I realised I didn't actually have your number…" Erik ran a hand through his hair and Cécile could see the dark circles under his eyes – much more prominent than usual.

"I know I promised to help you…"

"Why don't we postpone it a little?" Cécile said. "We can just relax tonight. I think you need it," she smiled.

"Eh, well. That would be nice. But I have to be at home. Just in case Halldór wakes up and needs something."

"Of course," Cécile smiled and held the bottle of wine up for him to see. "But a bottle of wine can be drunk at home too," she added with a laugh.

"Oh, well in that case," Erik smiled ever so slightly and Cécile suppressed the temptation to smile triumphantly.  
Instead she let herself into the car before Erik could protest, handbag and wine bottle in her lap as she waited patiently for Erik to scramble back into the car as well.

"The house isn't the cleanest, just as a warning," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Don't mind. Enough wine will make everything go away anyway," she replied and flashed him a smile.

"True," Erik chuckled.

His house was almost as she expected it to be.  
Not too small, not too large. A perfect size for a small family in the quiet side of the city.

A swing-set in the garden, coupled with various flowers and a few trees that looked like they had been climbed a lot by a certain little boy.

"How cute," she said softly as Erik unlocked the door and gestured for her to step inside.

"Thanks," he replied. "Hang on. I'm sure I've got spare slippers somewhere…" he added with a mumble and rummaged through the bottom of the wardrobe in the hallway.

Cécile was somewhat amused by the pair he produced. They looked handmade and a little worn, but she had to admit that hey were very comfortable.  
Clearly she was right. Erik really wouldn't care if she wore old slippers.

"You call this messy?" she mused out loud as Erik showed her to the living room. Sure; there were some toys strews about and some blankets looked like they should be folded up neatly instead of strewn across the floor and furniture – but it was hardly bad.

"Usually I keep it rather neat, all things considered given Halldór's age. But this weekend has been rather tough for him so I'm afraid cleaning went off the to-do-list very quickly," Erik explained as he bent down to pick up a teddy-bear from the floor.

"You just find two wineglasses and forget all about your responsibilities for a while," Cécile commanded him with a small smile. "You need to relax a little too."

"I'll try," Erik said with a sigh as he returned with two glasses, pleased to see Cécile had made herself comfortable on the sofa already.

"Try harder," Cécile said sternly and handed him the wine.

"Yes Ma'm," Erik said before making a low whistle.  
"Are you sure we can drink this?" he pointed to the wine. "It's a very expensive one…"

"Of course. If you like red wine then it's perfect."

"I like all wine," Erik laughed as he opened the bottle and poured them both a glass.

"Cheers to that then," Cécile raised her glass.

"Yes. Cheers," Erik replied, clinking their glasses together before taking a careful sip.

Cécile watched as he raised his eyebrows and stared at the red wine in awe.  
"Wow. That is good," he mumbled.

"I know," she giggled.

Half a bottle of wine each later, Erik was close to nodding off on the sofa despite his best attempts at staying awake.  
Cécile nudged him a little and gave him a sweet smile.

"You need to sleep," she said sternly. "You can tell me the rest of your ideas tomorrow."

"Yeah. Just need to make the guest bed up for you first," Erik mumbled sleepily.

"Oh, no room in your bed for little me?" she asked and smiled.

"I…uh," Erik's cheeks went almost as red as the wine he'd drunk. "Well, if you don't mind then of course," he managed to utter hurriedly.

"Of course not," Cécile giggled as she rose from the sofa, dragging Erik up with her. "It's a cold night and you're a perfect oven," she added with a wink.

Erik led her upstairs, pausing only momentary as he clearly debated what to do next.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt?" she asked and gestured to his wardrobe.

Erik only nodded before he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

Cécile rid herself of her clothes much faster than him and happily crawled into the bed, watching Erik frantically fumble with his buttons.

She stifled a giggle as he eventually got both his shirt and trousers off, climbing into bed in only boxers.

"Is this okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Cécile nodded and shuffled closer to him. "I certainly don't mind if you don't," she added.

"Not at all," Erik whispered softly.

"Good," Cécile sighed happily, resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heart racing, although it eventually slowed as the exhaustion took over all other emotions.

"Good night," she whispered softly and gave him a quick peck to his jawline.

"Night," Erik mumbled sleepily in return and wound his arm around her waist.

This, Cécile thought to herself, felt just perfect.

The sound of his breathing, coupled with the rise and fall of his chest and his steady heartbeat made for a great lullaby.

This she could get very used to she decided. Very, very used to.


	5. Chapter 5

Cécile awoke groggily to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open and a distinct sound of two small feet pitter-pattering across the wooden floor.

She wasn't at all surprised to hear Halldór weakly ask for his father, his voice still hoarse from what she assumed had probably been days of coughing.

"Awake already?" Erik mumbled sleepily as he lifted Halldór up into the bed, the little boy quick to crawl under the blankets. If Cécile didn't find him utterly adorable she'd be a little jealous that he had just stolen Erik's chest as a pillow from her.

"Puffin said trolls eat those who sleep late," Halldór whispered.

"Today is a sleeping late day," Erik explained softly and gently ran his hand over Halldór hair.

"Oh," Halldór uttered weakly before turning his still sleepy gaze towards Cécile.  
Her heart was surely beating twice as fast. He regarded her with a slight confused look and for a moment Cécile was terrified she'd made a mistake.  
What would Halldór think about her sharing a bed with her father? Would he be angry? Confused?

"Did you have a sleepover?" Halldór asked and frowned.

"Yes," Erik chuckled.

"You didn't invite me," Halldór's frown turned into a pout and Cécile let out a sight of relief. So far so good, she thought.

"We thought you should get better first," she explained.

"Don't worry," Erik added. "We didn't build any pillow forts without you."

"Good," Halldór smiled and slid off his father's chest, snuggling himself up in-between Cécile and Erik.

Silence settled comfortably over them as Halldór hummed happily to himself. Erik shifted a little and Cécile welcome his arm wriggling itself under and around her shoulders, pulling her and Halldór snugly up to himself.

"Dad, no," Halldór giggled happily, wriggling and trying not to laugh as Erik's free hand ticked his stomach.

"How cruel you are to the poor boy," Cécile laughed, her own hand trailing up Erik's sides as she watched his eyes widen. A devilish grin spread across her lips, she had clearly just discovered his weak spot.

"Don't you dare," he whispered and Cécile smiled wickedly at him before digging her fingers into his sides.

She wasn't sure who was laughing the most out of them.  
Erik from being tickled, Halldór from watching his father at the mercy of Cécile's hand or Cécile herself who unapologetically had the most wicked and stupid smile on her face as she reduced Erik to laughter and tears.

"Not fair," Erik whined as Halldór decided to help Cécile. "Two against one isn't fair at all."

"Yes it is, you're the tallest," Halldór reasoned.

"Precisely," Cécile nodded in agreement as they all sat up properly, Erik's cheeks still flushed red and chest heaving from laughing too hard.

"I'll get you both back for that," Erik eventually muttered somewhat sinisterly.

"Oh no. How shall we cope?!" Cécile smiled and winked at Halldór.

"Send him to the trolls?" Halldór replied with a serious tone, which just sent them all off in fits of giggles once more.

Halldór was the one to steer the moment away from a full day laying about in bed.

"I'm hungry," he whined and crawled into his father's lap.

"What do you want then?" Erik asked, pleased his son had an appetite again.

Halldór's face looked thoughtful for a moment before he announced with glee that he wanted eggs scrambled.

"Scrambled eggs?" Cécile repeated a little puzzled.

"No, no," Erik shook his head. "Scrambled eggs is eaten cold with smoked salmon. Eggs Scrambled is eaten warm on toast," he explained and winked.

"Ohhh," She smiled knowingly and looked at Halldór who is trying to slide of the bed legs first, his stuffed toy puffin still in hand.

"Go find your slippers," Erik told Halldór before the kid could run out the door and down the stairs.

Cécile shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor, feeling a little silly and embarrassed that she was still in Erik's oversized t-shirt.

"Need a dressing gown?" Erik asked her and Cécile nodded.

Although neither her or Erik could hide their amusement as she wrapped herself up in the dark blue dressing gown – completely swamped by the sheer size of it.

"I think I'd fit one of Halldór's better," she sighed and held her hands out, flapping the sleeves around and swatting Erik with them.

"Maybe," Erik hummed with amusement as he watched the dressing gown trail behind her as she walked.  
"Then again, we can just pretend it's a royal gown of sort."

"Excellent. Halldór did say I was Queen," she mused with a sly smile.

"True. Suppose I should offer you breakfast then, your highness?" Erik made a half-hearted attempt at bowing which only made Cécile smile more.

"Breakfast would be very nice, thank you," she replied and tried to shorten the dressing gown.

"Here," Erik muttered and helped her double it a little up before tying it over the fold; allowing her to walk without tripping.

"Thank you," she replied, tiptoeing up and giving him a soft kiss.

"Welcome," he uttered softly, the word barely above a mumble.

"Come on, before Halldór decides to try to cook the food himself," she smiled.

"Oh gods I hope not," Erik looked momentarily horrified as he pulled on a t-shirt (much to Cécile's dismay).  
"Did I tell you about the time he tried to cook breakfast for me last fathers-day?"

"No, do tell," Cécile's eyes lit up in glee.

"Granted his mother did tell me it was partly her fault," Erik shrugged. "But anyway, he woke me up with a home made card and then disappeared downstairs. I figured he was playing in the living room, but turns out he had tried to make toast and fried eggs on his own."

"Let me guess, eggs and bread everywhere?" Cécile stifled a laugh.

"I don't know how he got eggs on the ceiling, but he did," Erik sighed.

"Trolls maybe?" she offered.

"Oh yes. Definitively the trolls," Erik chuckled.

Thankfully Halldór hadn't tried to make scrambled eggs himself, leaving that culinary feat to his father.  
Cécile made them coffee, sipping it slowly as she watched Erik slowly stir the eggs over a low heat, Halldór clinging to his legs and telling him to make at least double portions.

"Butter on your toast?" Erik turned momentarily, directing his question towards Cécile.

"Oh why not. I'll indulge a little," she replied with a smile behind the brim of her coffee cup.

"Good answer," Erik replied with a wink, and Cécile was most pleased with the appearance of a slice of toast topped with a generous helping of scrambled eggs.  
Or in Halldór's words: Eggs scrambled.

Much to Cécile's surprise, it was genuinely delicious.  
With the addition of salt and pepper of course – although she figured it was probably better for Halldór to have a more 'bland' diet, and Erik confirmed this when he handed her the salt and pepper and told her she was allowed to add as much as she wanted.

She helped him with the dishes while Halldór ran around the living room making plane noises and occasionally talking to his stuffed animals about his upcoming show.

"He's rehearsing," Erik explained.

"I'm glad he's excited," She mused.

"He's made a troll tail and everything," Erik chuckled.

"Really?"

"Yes. It's right now some rope and a ruined pillowcase, but hey, it's something," Erik smiled fondly.

"Well that's further than I've gotten with the costumes for this show," Cécile sighed.

"Doesn't have to be much more complicated than that really," Erik reassured her. "I don't think trolls are known for their good sense of style," he hummed.

"I'm not that familiar with the lifestyles of trolls..." Cécile stifled a laugh.

"Halldór can tell you all about it," Erik winked. "In the meantime, why don't we brainstorm a little over some more coffee?"

"A most excellent plan," Cécile smiled brightly.

Brainstorming alone in the kitchen lasted for 15 minutes until Halldór demanded their presence.

Coffee cup in hand, Cécile found herself on the living room floor watching Halldór do cartwheels until he was dizzy.

Between the little boy's commotion and energy, Erik occasionally passed her some sketches of possible outfits.

The first three would be too heavy, the fourth had too much fabric.  
The fifth and sixth were too complicated (albeit stunningly beautiful, Cécile swore to herself that one day she'd get those made too).

However, Erik's seventh suggestion was perfect.

Some simple green or brown fabric, ripped and sown together again.  
A dab of dark green paint to it and coupled with a messy and uneven tutu made for the perfect 'troll' costume for a bunch of excited 4-7 year old children.  
Tails could be made from rough rope and wool.

"You said the older group wanted troll costumes too?" Erik mused out loud.

"Yes. Their dance will be a bit more complicated.."

"What light have you got available at the night?" Erik asked.

"Whatever we need usually... why?" Cécile looked at him with curiosity and interest.

"Well... If you can get some ultraviolet light of sorts we can just splash the outfits full of UV and glow paint, making them all a bit more 'eerie'," he mused.

"Oh," Cécile's eyes lit up at the idea. "Wonderful. That would certainly put a new spin to their dance."

"And it won't require much more work for their costumes," Erik added with a wink.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

"Only him," Erik pointed to Halldór who was trying to build a pillow fort on his own.

"Nonsense," Cécile huffed and leaned in closer to Erik. "You should hear it more," she said and kissed his cheek – very satisfied he still blushed at her actions.

"Thank you," Erik managed to mumble. "We should maybe plan how to make these costumes, and where to get the fabric..."

"I've got an older brother who can find all the fabric we need. And I'll get some help from my friend to make them, don't worry."

"Need me any more?"

"Probably not for this," Cécile smiled. "But don't think I won't make you stick around regardless," she winked, oblivious so the sight of relief that escaped Erik.

"Oh good. I was worried I'd started to scare you off," he mumbled.

"If that's your plan you're doing an awful job at it," Cécile laughed and shuffled closer to Erik. "I find all of this to be very pleasant," she waved her hand around for emphasis. "And I'd rather not give it away if I can help it."

"Me too," Erik whispered.

Cécile sighed happily and rested her head on his shoulders, laughing softly as Halldór covered them with a blanket and told them they had to help him build a fort.

Moment ruined, she thought without a trace of bitterness. Smiling genuinely and happily as she watched Erik pull the cushions off the sofa and pile them on the floor.

Thirty minutes later they were eating waffles and reading fairy-tales in the pillow fort. Halldór happily sitting in Cécile's lap as Erik read them both a story.

'This', she thought as Halldór smiled up at her, 'Is perfect.'

Nothing short of perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

"Soooo..." Preben was grinning. A proper wolf-like grin that made Erik feel like he was in the spotlight at an event he really didn't want to be at.

No way could he escape now.

"So what?" Erik sneered in reply, trying to hide his discomfort by taking a large gulp of coffee.

"Our little brother has found himself a new woman..." Preben's smile didn't falter.

"He has?" Björn tore his gaze from the four kids playing on the floor in the living-room and stared at Erik, a smile creeping onto his features to match Preben's.

"He has indeed," Preben nodded.

"And you didn't tell us? How awful," Björn glared.

"None of your fucking business what I do," Erik hissed at them both under his breath.

"That is where you're wrong!" Preben laughed. "It is so our business what you do," he added and smirked.

"Indeed," Björn nodded. "Your love life is a great concern of ours."

"Yeah right," Erik scoffed. "You spent a full month asking me about my honeymoon when I got married."

"We had to know!" Preben exclaimed and flashed him a wicked grin. "I tell you what Elizbetha and I do!"

"And I'd rather not know at all," Erik grimaced. "At least not in such great details."

"I'm so offended," Preben joked and nudged Björn in the side. "Björn. Tell Erik about your honeymoon."

"No," Erik and Björn said in unison – Björn's face going a shade darker pink than before.

"Killjoys," Preben huffed.

"You are far too invested in other people's sex lives," Erik scolded his brother. "Right Björn?"

Björn simply nodded.

"I think you're just jealous of mine," Preben laughed and winked at them both.

"Not in the slightest," Björn grimaced.

"Wow. No need to be so rude," Preben frowned. "How can you not want to hear about our bedroom adventures? Elizabetha shares it with her friends!"

"Then I pity them all," Björn mumbled, and Erik couldn't help but chuckle.

"Fine," Preben huffed. "But you should at least let us meet this new woman of yours. Is she as much of an ice queen as Natalia is?"

"Uh..." Erik looked confused. "That's really not very nice of you to say about Natalia. We're still friends... And she's still the mother of your nephew," he shot his brother a dirty look.

"Sorry, sorry. But the two of you could rule the northern hemisphere if you wanted with those icy cold looks of yours," Preben smiled.

"Thank you?" Erik rolled his eyes and sighed. "Cécile isn't like Natalia. Not at all really... or at least not a lot," he mumbled.

"And Halldór? How does she handle him?" Björn asked, his nephew's safety and happiness was much more important to him than anything else.

"Halldór adores her. He's excited about every dance class and doesn't seem to mind at all that she's stayed the night," Erik smiled softly and cast a fond glance over to Halldór and his three cousins playing happily on the floor. "And as far as I can see... she adores him too."

"Have you told Natalia you're dating someone?" Preben lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Yeah," Erik nodded. "She doesn't mind. After all, she's happy with Alfred, so why would it bother her if I'm happy too?"

"Man, more people should be as chill about a divorce as you two," Preben laughed.

"Heh, yes. Maybe. We'll see how it goes after this weekend. Halldór is staying there while I finish some books up for Monday."

"Well I think you should invite your new girlfriend over for dinner on Tuesday then!" Preben suggested with a smile. "She has to be introduced to the whole family at some point."

"Bit soon maybe," Erik grumbled.

"Timo met you guys the same time he met me," Björn interjected.

"That's cause you met your husband at a concert," Erik reminded him, jabbing a pointed finger into his brothers' side.  
Björn yelped and punched Erik's arm lightly in retaliation.

"Speaking of Timo..." Erik said as he rubbed his arm. "Where is he? I missed our last coffee date last week due to deadlines and was hoping he'd be here..."

"He's... out," Björn whispered and glanced worriedly over to his two sons playing in the other room.

"Uh... okay?" Erik looked confused and worried.

"Out, buying a present for the boys," Björn whispered.

"Ooh," Erik nodded.

"I even know what it is," Preben sing-songed happily.

"Do I get a clue?" Erik chuckled.

"Timo went to visit Ludwig," Preben said and grinned.

"What? You're joking," he turned to Björn, trying very hard to mime and sign 'you're getting a god damn dog?' without Björn's sons catching on.

Björn nodded, smug grin plastered on his face.

"You do realise this means Halldór is going to start bugging me for a bird again... or worse yet, a troll," Erik grumbled and sank further down in his chair.

"Get the kid a bird then," Preben laughed.

"No thank you. One little boy making a mess of my house is enough. I don't want to add feathers to the mix any time soon."

"Fair point," Björn chuckled. "But we're two adults who can clean, so we'll cope."

"Erik is just bitter because he's more a cat-person," Preben laughed and flashed his youngest brother a grin.

"Am not," Erik frowned.

"Correction. You are a cat," Preben replied, dodging Erik's feeble attempt at hitting him from across the little table.

"Quick, get some string," Björn added with a chuckle.

Erik was just about to tell them just how many ways he could kill them with a piece of string, but a loud wail from the other room tore his attention from murder to paternal instinct in less than a second.

Halldór was crying his eyes out, holding his hand over his face as his cousins looked at him worriedly.

Sólfríð – Preben's daughter – was trying her best to comfort her younger cousin, patting his head and offering to kiss it all better.

Peter and Örjan were standing there and looking both awkward and uncomfortable. Örjan had gone rather pale and was clinging to his brother's arm with all his might.

"Whops," Erik said as he spotted the blood. "Let's see that little one," he knelt down next to Halldór and gently placed his hand over the boy's own.  
"Does it hurt?"

Halldór swallowed a hiccup and nodded, tears still streaming down his face.

"He fell," Örjan whispered.

"We were just playing," Peter explained, looking at Halldór worriedly.  
"Accidents happen," Erik told them as he lifted Halldór up in his arms. "We'll just go clean this up and be right back," he reassured the others.

As he carried his son to the bathroom he could hear Sólfríð tell Preben how it happened.

No one's fault. Just four overly excited children playing.

"Come on little man," Erik whispered softly as he placed Halldór on his knee, balancing himself on the toilet seat as he tried to clean the blood off Halldór's face.

"Does it hurt here?" he asked and gently pressed his finger to Halldór's nose.

"Yes," Halldór replied weakly, blood still seeping out.

"Sorry," Erik apologised and held some paper to Halldór's nose again, humming softly as he waited for the bleeding to stop.

"There," he said as he removed the paper, glad to see no more red dripping from his sons' nose. "Much better."

Halldór sniffled and touched his own nose.

"It's not broken," Erik reassured him. "Just a little bruised," he added and smiled.

"Is that bad?" Halldór questioned.

"Only if you want a broken nose."

"Like Uncle Ivan's?"

"Oh no," Erik chuckled. "Ivan's nose isn't broken, just a little bit different than yours and mine."

"But I like Uncle Ivan's nose. I want one like him," Halldór frowned, forgetting all about his own for the moment.

"You should tell him that next time," Erik smiled. "I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear that."

"Do people not tell him that?" Halldór was now much more concerned about his uncle than himself.

"Not often no," Erik shook his head. "So next time you like something about someone, you should tell them. People like compliments. It makes them happy."

"What's a compliment then?" Halldór asked.

"Things like 'you're nice' or 'you're pretty'," Erik explained. "Or even saying they're good at something."

"Oh!" Halldór's face lit up. "So I should tell the ones in my dance class they're all pretty and good at dancing?"

"Yes, you could do that."

"The boys too?"

"Would you like being told you're pretty and talented?" Erik asked him.

"Yes," Halldór replied without missing a beat.

"Then surely others won't mind either," Erik ruffled his hair and gave his forehead a light kiss.

"Do you tell Cécile she's pretty?" Halldór whispered.

"Not nearly as often as I should," Erik sighed and lifted Halldór high up before hugging him tightly. "I'll be sure to do so next time I see her."

"I'll remind you," Halldór giggled.

"Good. Thank you," Erik laughed. "Now let's go borrow some clothes from your cousins. Yours got a little bit bloody."

"Is that bad?" Halldór asked, looking down at his t-shirt with a concerned frown.

"Not at all. It will wash out," Erik smiled.

"Good. Trolls will eat me if I smell of blood, right?"

"Only Christian blood," Erik laughed. "And don't worry. No troll will get you when I'm here."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Halldór was more than content with this reply. Wrapping his arms around Erik's neck and letting his father carry him back to the living-room.

Sólfríð was the first to approach Halldór when they returned. Peter second – with Örjan in tow.

One change of clothes later and Halldór had forgotten all about his earlier mishap.

Running around in Sólfríð's purple dress was much more fun than dwelling on a bleeding nose – much to Erik's delight.

"For someone who's only got one child, you are remarkably calm when he hurts himself," Preben mused. "I used to rush over to Sólfríð at the smallest sound..."

"I learned from your mistakes," Erik winked.

"Don't we all," Björn rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Oh no fair. Just because I'm the oldest," Preben huffed and crossed his arms. "You guys are awful brothers."

"Says the guy who tied us to a tree because we didn't want to go on an adventure with you," Erik snorted.

"I was going to be a Viking explorer, but I needed a crew, you guys ruined my plans," Preben frowned.

"Nothing stopping you going for that dream now," Björn laughed.

"And give up my current super sweet architecture job? Ha, not likely," Preben huffed triumphantly before pouring them all another cup coffee.

"The only one who got closest to being a Viking adventurer was Erik," Björn mused as he sipped his coffee.

"You have no idea how amused I am by the fact that Halldórs birth certificate says 'Halldór Eriksson'," Preben smiled. "Legally, that's his name! I love it."

"It's based on the same idea as what out surname started as... So I don't mind," Erik shrugged. "The only issue is when I go to get his vaccinations or what not and have to explain that since he's born in Iceland we decided to roll with the traditional naming lawn in Iceland, thus the different surname... Natalia sometimes write it as Nataliuson, just to fuck with everyone," Erik chuckled.

"Still, you're probably the one who got to travel the most out of us three," Preben sighed.

"Natalia keeps offering you guys cheap or free tickets," Erik rolled his eyes and tapped the coffee cup with his index finger. "You can't say you've not had the opportunity."

"Got responsibilities now! I have to be mature!" Preben exclaimed and threw his hands up in the air.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Erik snorted, and Björn laughed darkly.

"I'm not going on long trips with two kids," Björn sighed. "A car trip longer than one hour is already torture enough."

"Especially when they eat far too many sweets and then throw up in the back-seat?" Erik asked with a smirk.

"Ugh, on hot days you can still smell it," Björn groaned.

"That was one hundred percent your own fault," Preben chuckled. "If I recall correctly Timo told you not to give them anything, but you just ignored him."

"Yes," Björn hung his head in shame.

"It's not all bad," Erik said, trying to hide his amusement. "We all learnt an important lesson that day."

"Yes," Preben grinned. "Like: Never let kids eat sweets and read comics while on windy mountain roads. Thanks for making that mistake first."

"You're welcome," Björn mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, speaking of lessons... How's Halldór doing in his dancing lessons?" Preben inquired as he lent closer to Erik.

"He's doing well. I think he really enjoys them. Especially now that he knows he's part of the Christmas show," Erik smiled fondly.

"You have better invite us all," Preben warned him.

"No hope in hell that I can keep you away either," Erik laughed softly. "Besides, I'd like you all to be there. I think it's done wonders for his confidence..."

"Watch out," Björn smiled. "He'll end up being less antisocial than you if he keeps this up."

"Good. Maybe then he'll actually have a larger circle of friends than I did," Erik rolled his eyes.

"You had us," Preben reminded him.

"Ah yes. Wonderful older brothers that you've been," Erik tried not to frown. "Like the time you both got us completely lost in the woods until dad found us."

"Well we survived," Preben shrugged.

"Or the time you convinced me to steal a boat and the coastguard had to come pick us up after you ran us ashore on a rock..." Erik glared.

"Okay, that was not one of our finest moments..." Preben coughed and looked embarrassed. "Maybe don't tell your new girlfriend about those times."

"Oh no," Erik smiled smugly. "I'll just tell her about the time you tried to go ice bathing with Timo."

"If you do I'm telling her about the time you brought home a lost cat, and dad came home to you trying to feed a wild lynx frozen salmon," Preben smirked.

"I can't wait for this family dinner," Björn hummed. "Next weekend will fit perfectly for us all, right?"

"I have to ask Cécile first..." Erik grumbled.

"No, no. She's free," Björn smiled and held up Erik's phone. "I just asked."

"You stole my phone?!" Erik grabbed the phone and glared at his brother. "Since when did you get good at pickpocketing?"

"Since I realised it's the only way to keep two small boys occupied when they need their vaccinations," Björn smirked.

"You're awful," Erik grumbled, inspecting his phone – relieved to find that Björn hadn't sent Cécile anything but the dinner invitation.

"It's just a small payback for the time you filled my coat pockets with condoms," Björn smirked.

"I'm the reason Timo went home with you, you owe me your happy marriage life," Erik hissed.

"Eh," Björn shrugged and ignored the fact that Preben was laughing so hard he had stopped making a sound and was instead shaking in his chair and trying to breathe properly.

"If this relationship crashes and burns I'm holding you both responsible," Erik hissed.

"Don't worry," Preben reassured him once he stopped laughing long enough to catch a breath. "We only have your best interest at heart."

"Well, Halldór's best interest," Björn corrected. "But that's close enough."

"You two are going to be the death of me," Erik groaned, resting his head against the table. "Never mind raising a child. Halldór's an angel in comparison to you two."

"Raised by the devil himself," Preben laughed.

"Dad would be so flattered if he could hear you," Erik snorted.

"We addressed last years Christmas card to him as 'Dear Satan'," Preben smiled. "It took him a week before he realised it wasn't just 'Santa' misspelled."

"That does explain why he was in such a good mood last time he phoned," Erik sighed and shook his head.

"Flattery gets you into his good books, insulting him makes him proud," Preben smiled before turning his attention toward the children.

"Right kids," he said and stood up. "Better clean up now."

"I hope Cécile isn't easily scared," Björn whispered to Erik as Preben tried to convince four children to pick up their toys.

"So far she's not ran off..." Erik smiled. "So maybe there's hope."

* * *

Names:

Sólfríð - Faroe Islands  
Örjan - Landonia  
Björn - Sweden


	7. Chapter 7

Cécile glanced at her watch, wondering why on earth Francis was so late today.

She had already finished her book, and was now reduced to people-watching in plain sight. Which of course was utterly awful if she didn't have anyone to gossip with while she did so, a fact she had repeatedly texted Francis about but to no avail. Her brother seemed to have left his phone at home today.

A delighted yell of her name brought her attention towards the children's play park.

Halldór had spotted her and was skipping over, smiling brightly as he waved eagerly to get her attention.

"Cécile!" he laughed as he stopped by her feet, a bright and warm smile on his face as his cheeks almost glowed red.

"Hello Halldór," she greeted him in return with a smile of her own. "Did your dad bring you out today to play?" she inquired, glancing around for the familiar figure of Erik.

"No," Halldór shook his head. "Mom did."

Cécile froze for a moment, suddenly more aware of the look a woman was sending her from a few metres away.

"Oh?" she managed to utter. "That's nice," she added and mustered a sweet smile, hoping neither of them would notice her nervousness.

"And tonight I'm staying with Uncle Preben!" Halldór smiled, clearly excited about his weekend plans.

"Oh, is this the uncle who has a daughter?" Cécile asked, hoping Halldór's mother would stop staring at her soon.

"Yes," Halldór nodded.

"Well I almost envy you then," she joked and ruffled his hair like she had seen Erik do so any times before. "I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun with them."

"Yeah," Halldór giggled. "Wanna see how great I am at the swings?" he asked.

"Well..." Cécile mulled the question over, not sure she dared go with him in fear his mother might do something.  
However, Halldór was oh so very difficult to say no to.

"Sure," she said with a smile. "I'd love to."

Halldór smiled in delight and offered his hand for her to hold, almost dragging her across to the little play park.

Cécile took a seat next to the swing-sets and sighed lightly as she watched Halldór scramble onto the swing with some difficulty. She really could watch him play all day, he was too precious to be let out of sight for even a moment.

"Cécile?" a woman asked, voice chillingly cold as she walked over to the bench.

"Yes, that's me," Cécile smiled as sweetly and warmly as she could, extending her hand towards Halldór's mother.

"Natalia," she replied and shook her hand firmly. "Pleasure to meet you. Mind if I take a seat?"

"No, not at all," Cécile lied.

"Thank you."

Natalia sat almost uncomfortably close to her on the bench, her gaze focused on Halldór who was now doing his best at getting the swing to move.

"You're different than what I imagined," Natalia said and Cécile flinched.

"How so?" she replied.

"I imagined you taller..." Natalia hummed.

"Sorry for breaking the illusion of being a tall ballet dancer," Cécile frowned.

"Not disappointed," Natalia elaborated. "Just surprised. Halldór speaks very kindly of you."

"Oh," Cécile blushed. "Thank you..." unable to return the compliment. Halldór hardly spoke of his mother at all.

"No need to look so scared," Natalia chuckled. "I don't bite."

"Oh, well... It's just I thought maybe..." Cécile sighed. "Okay. Never mind. I'm sorry," she turned to face Natalia properly and offered an earnest smile. "I just got a little nervous. Seeing as you're his mother and well..."

"Halldór doesn't speak much of me?" Natalia finished and Cécile nodded in reply, glad she didn't have to say those words herself.

"Well I'm sure Erik has told you he doesn't see me very often..."

"He has mentioned that," Cécile nodded.

"Has he said much else?"

"That you were better suited as friends..."

"Well he's right about that. Nothing else?"

"Not really," Cécile shrugged. "I don't see why it matters. If you're happy, Halldór is happy and Erik is happy; I don't think I need to know more about what lies in the past, do I?"

"Heh," Natalia smirked. "I like you," she added and turned her gaze momentarily towards her son. "So I'll apologise for scaring you."

"No lasting trauma here," Cécile laughed. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. People grow and drift apart. It happens. If I'm honest I'm a little glad because it means I get to spend time with Erik and Halldór..."

"Good," Natalia smiled genuinely. "Suits me just fine."

"Good," Cécile replied with a smile of her own.

They sat watching Halldór play for a few minutes before Cécile's curiosity got the better of her.

"Can I ask what you do for a living? Erik said you were often busy..."

"Oh so he didn't tell you?" Natalia smiled wickedly, and for a moment Cécile wondered if that had been a bad move.

"No. Should he have?"

"Nah," Natalia shrugged. "He never saw my line of work as something to brag about. Well, not something to flaunt if probably the better wording of it."

"See, now I'm even more curious," Cécile pushed her glasses a little upwards.

"Well since I know you're a ballerina I supposed it's just fair you get to know what I do..." Natalia chuckled and opened up her purse.  
"I'll give you a clue. I often travel and I seldom sleep in the same place for long..."

Cécile looked perplexed for a moment until Natalia pulled out a silver pin from her purse and handed it to her.

"A pilot?"

"Correct," Natalia smiled brightly. "Ten points for not assuming stewardess."

"Oh wow. That's so exciting," Cécile admired the winged pin before handing it back. "That explain why Halldór likes pretending he's an air-plane I suppose?"

"Heh, maybe," Natalia stifled a laugh.

"So you fly commercial airplanes then? Since you said you travelled a lot..."

"Yes," Natalia nodded. "Started off with the air-force, but now it's all civilian airplanes. It's a fantastic opportunity to see the world, although it's mostly hotels."

"Favourite country then?" Cécile asked with a grin.

"Can I choose my home country?" Natalia smirked.

"No. Besides that one," Cécile laughed.

"Hmm..." Natalia thought about the question for a moment.

"Iceland. Where Halldór was born and Erik and I got married," she concluded.  
"It's got gorgeous nature and few people. Very quiet and serene."

"Solid reasons," Cécile laughed.

"And you?" Natalia leant against the back of the bench and crossed her arms.

"Suppose I'm not allowed to say my home country either?" Cécile mused.

"That would be cheating," Natalia smirked.

"Fine. I love Italy and France. But big cities in general are always exciting. Bonus points if the food is also good."

"So New York and those things?"

"Yes," Cécile nodded. "I've got several cities on my list, but not got around to seeing them all yet."

"Well, if you have a few days off I can probably get you a good deal."

"You can?"

"Of course. The job comes with perks," Natalia winked at her.

"Hmm. I don't think I can turn such an offer down," Cécile tapped her chin and smiled.

"Excellent," Natalia smiled and pulled out a business card from her purse. "Here, give me a call or something if you figure out a date to travel. I'll even let you bring Erik if he promises to behave."

"Oh," Cécile blushed and Natalia's smile widened into a full on wicked grin.

"You're cute," she said and laughed. "I can see why Erik fell for you like a ton of bricks."

"Thank you," Cécile replied. "You're gorgeous yourself," she added and much to her surprise a blush appeared on Natalia's cheeks too.  
"And clearly no one tells you that enough," Cécile added with a smile.

"Oh no. They call me something else," Natalia laughed. "Or rather, someone right now calls me something else."

Cécile looked confused.  
"I'm sorry, I don't follow..."

"Erik isn't the only one who found himself a new partner," Natalia smiled.

"Oohhh," Cécile nodded as she finally caught on. "Congratulations then," she added.

"Thank you."

"Can I interest you in coffee?" Cécile asked. "I was supposed to meet my brother, but he's really late and I need a little treat."

"Hm," Natalia seemed to mull the suggestion over. "I suppose the invitation includes Halldór too..."

"Of course," Cécile laughed. "He's too sweet not to be included."

"Then I can't say no," Natalia smiled, standing up and clapping her hands together to get Halldór's attention.

Cécile was pleased to see that Halldór was as energetic and happy around his mother as he was with his father. No animosity or contempt.

It was as they both had said. They worked better as friends than as wife and husband.

Cécile led the way to the café, enquiring about Natalia's job as they walked – curious about how she coped with long flights. Asking about everything from how she took off to how she landed – it was so far from her own profession and she had no qualms about admitting she knew nothing about flying at all.

"It's a lot of reading involved," Natalia sighed. "You have to know and prepare for almost everything under the sun. If an accident happen we all need to read and learn from it."

"Sounds exhausting," Cécile frowned a little, taking a hesitant sip of hot tea.

"It is. But it's also fun, I wouldn't give it up for anything else."

"I can understand that sentiment," Cécile laughed softly.

"It's a very liberating feeling... flying is very... free in it's own way," Natalia sighed happily. "There are so many regulations to follow and you can't really sit back and relax, but it's still very much a fantastic experience to know you're flying."

"Mhm," Cécile nodded. "Maybe not comparable, but I feel the same about dancing. It required focus, but it never stops making me feel happy."

"Cécile dances like an angel," Halldór whispered before taking a large bite of the cookie on his plate.

"Thank you," Cécile blushed, smiling sweetly at him. "You're really good too," she added.

Halldór mumbled a thanks as his whole face went red as a beetroot.

"He gets that from his dad," Natalia smiled, although Cécile knew that to be a lie – Natalia blushed just as easily and badly as Erik.  
Poor Halldór was doomed from the start.

Cécile's phone buzzed and she apologised before taking a look.

"Ah. My brother finally gives a sign of life," she sighed.

"I think this might be a new record for 'late'," Natalia smirked.

"Oh no. He's taken longer before," Cécile frowned. "He always apologies. But I swear he would forget his own head at home if it wasn't attached to his shoulders."

"Somehow I don't doubt it," Natalia replied, hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Thank you for the lovely company. I'm glad I met you," Cécile smiled earnestly as she stood up.

"Pleasure is all mine," Natalia replied as she followed suit.

"Hopefully we can meet up again?"

"Yes..." Natalia looked at Halldór. "There is a high probability of that happening."

"Heh, yes." Cécile chuckled. "That's very true."  
She stepped up and hugged the taller woman before Natalia could even protest.  
Cécile realised too late that Natalia was perhaps not the 'hugging' type – but to her delight Natalia returned the hug.

"I'm not worried about leaving my son in your care," Natalia whispered in her ear before they stepped apart.  
"Don't hesitate to contact me if you'd like that cheap flight," she winked as she handed Cécile her business card, and Cécile smiled from ear to ear.

"I will keep that in mind," she added, fumbling with the card till she could find a piece of paper to write her own number on. "Next time you're in town we should do this again."

"Yes," Natalia nodded. "That would be nice."

Cécile waved at them both, almost upset Francis decided to finally show up.

He was, as always, incredibly apologetic.  
He promised her new shoes, new dress, hell – he even spoke of a new car if she'd only forgive him.  
She settled for letting him buy her some new make-up and a good bottle of champagne.

"So you met his ex?" Francis almost choked on his food. "How was she?"

"Gorgeous," Cécile sighed dreamily. "Utterly beautiful," she added.

"Good to know," Francis laughed. "Was she nice?"

"Yes. Bit cold at first, but very lovely once we spoke a little. I'm so happy I met her."

"And she's okay with you adopting her son?"

"I'm not adopting Halldór," Cécile hissed. "But... she said she didn't mind me caring for him. So that's good, right?"

"I can hear the wedding bells already," Francis sniffled. "Oh my dear little sister. I can't wait to walk you down the aisle!"

"Don't you dare start," she frowned. "I'm not marrying Erik."

"Not yet you are. But I'm sure you will," Francis smiled and took a slow sip of his wine. "You just got a blessing from his ex-wife, what more could you ask for?"

"Maybe making it official that we're dating first?"

"Details, details. Just pirouette your way into it all!"

"That's not how that works and you know it," Cécile sighed. "You're awful," she shook her head and laughed. "But I am glad I met her."

"That's all I need to know," Francis winked.

"Stop that or I'm un-forgiving you for being late."

"Okay, okay," Francis frowned. "I'm happy for you, I really am."

"Good," Cécile huffed. "She was lovely. Don't go spreading any misinformation."

"Not even if it's just about you marrying Erik?"

"Especially that," she glared and dug her high heel into his shin. "You might scare him off."

"Doubtful," Francis said as he rubbed his sore leg.

"Well, just inn case, don't jinx it."

"Fine..." Francis sighed.

"Why where you late?" she asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from herself.  
To her joy Francis had a good reason. Somewhat at least.

A few sketchbooks later she had definitively forgiven him.  
It wasn't every day her brother got to design a several outfits for the runway.  
And with the added promise that she was invited to the event; Francis was once more in his sister's good books.


	8. Chapter 8

Cecilé squinted at her phone.  
Erik had sent her a text, but she was pretty sure it wasn't in any kind of human language.  
She made out a few words; hello, coffee and sleeping.

The rest were incomprehensible sequences of letters and numbers.

"Drunk texting?" she mused out loud to herself.  
With a smile she decided to just reply none the less.

_'If you're trying to ask me out for a coffee, please do it less cryptically'_

A minute later her phone buzzed to life.

_'Sorry. I was shopping and Halldór got a hold of my phone.'_

Cecilé laughed to herself, imagining Halldór excitedly trying to write something on his father phone. Cutest little matchmaker in the world. Either that or having a kid was the best excuse for awful text messages.  
Either way – it was working in both their favour whatever was going on.

_'No harm done. Shame about the coffee date then'_

No harm in her flirting a _little_ either. Cecilé was dying to see him again, but a little too proud to admit that so outright.

_'We're baking cookies today (Halldór's request), you can come over and join the taste testing panel.'_

Cecilé stared at the invitation. It was _very_ tempting.  
She didn't have anything else planned either beyond maybe hoover – and that could wait another day.

_'I expect there to be tea to accompany the cookies.'_

She tapped the table while waiting for a reply, wishing Erik was faster at typing.

_'Will coffee do?'_

Cecilé smiled fondly at her phone, feeling like an idiot yet not really caring.

_'I'll let it do since it's you.'_

-x-

Erik greeted her in the doorway wearing a purple apron with the words _'Obey and kiss the cook'_ embroidered onto it alongside some skulls and flowers. The invitation was far too good to pass up, so Cecilé pulled him down for a quick kiss before he could even invite her inside.

"Oh wow, hello to you too," Erik mumbled, trying to keep his blush under control while he ushered her inside.

"It smells delicious," Cecilé flashed him a smile as he hung up her jacket for her. "If they taste anything near as good as they smell you might be in the wrong profession."

"Lesson number 5 you learn as a parent: cookies are _great_ bribery," Erik chuckled.

"I'll keep that in mind." Cecilé laughed and dusted some flour off his apron.

"Cécile!" Halldór cried in excitement and ran right into her legs, hugging her tightly.

"What a welcome committee!" Cécile laughed as she lifted Halldór up, lamenting the flour and dough stains he added to her clothes for just a brief moment. Halldór was sporting a matching purple apron, with the words _'I make the rules'_ and with what Cécile gathered had to be trolls embroidered onto his.

"Dad's tying to put raisins in all the cookies, you have to stop him!" Halldór said worriedly.

"Raisins?" Cécile turned and gave Erik a look of disgust. "That is a culinary no-no,"

"You're siding with him?" Erik frowned.

"I'm siding with good taste, something you clearly don't have," Cécile stuck her tongue out at him.

"Does that include my taste in women?" Erik raised an eyebrow and Cécile gaped.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "You are awful," she added – cheeks red – she'd walked _right_ into that one.  
"I can't tell who's supposed to be more offended about that. Natalia or me..." she muttered.

"I'll give here a call and ask her later," Erik laughed and leant in to kiss her cheek.

"You don't deserve kisses!" Halldór huffed and pushed Erik's face away from Cécile before he could get too close.

"Keep that up or you're getting nothing but raisin cookies for a month," Erik warned.

"That is an awful punishment Erik," Cécile laughed. "You can't do that to your own son!"

"Fine. A week," Erik grumbled and crossed his arms.

"He's being mean!" Halldór whimpered and Cécile could see Halldór was just as much in on the joke as Erik was.  
Father and son were frighteningly similar at times.

"Yes he is," she agreed and patted Halldór's head affectionately. "I'll punish him accordingly later," she reassured him, winking at Erik when Halldór didn't see.

"With chains?" Halldór asked gravely.

"Yes," Cécile replied, trying to ignore the fact that Erik was now grinning like a fool at her.

"Right okay, fine," Erik sighed. "Chocolate chip cookies it is..."

"Yay!" Halldór threw his hands in the air and giggled.  
"Democracy wins once more," Cécile smiled.

"That was nothing short of bribery," Erik retorted coolly.

"Shush you," Cécile waved him off after setting Halldór down on the floor and watching the little boy run straight for the kitchen. "We saved you from a bad decision,"

"But I like raisins in cookies..." Erik mumbled.

"Then we make a small batch of _nasty_ cookies for you, and Halldór and I will eat the tasty ones, perfect plan or what?"

"Sure," Erik snorted.

"Excellent," Cécile hummed and headed for the kitchen, trying not to laugh at the mess of flour and dough that met her. Poor Erik. His nice and pristine kitchen would not recover from this for a good week.

"You'd think his pale hair was white enough," Erik sighed. "But no, he has to go and shower himself and the kitchen in flour,"

"He looks like a little snow child," Cécile giggled.

"That's not necessarily a step up from his usual troll-child self," Erik frowned. "He's going to be dragging flour all around the house at this rate,"

"I'll help you contain and clean it up," Cécile reassured him.

"Oh, that reminds me," Erik lowered his voice. "Uh, about that family dinner invitation..."

"Hm?"

"You don't have to attend if you don't want to..." Erik said.

"Don't you want me there?"

"What? No! I mean..." Erik bit his lip. "It's just.. my brothers can be a bit, _intense_," he sighed.

"You're talking to the woman with French and Italian family members," Cécile laughed.

"Did your brother get you lost in the woods or take bets on who could break the most bones in one year?" Erik looked at her questionably.

"Uh..." Cécile paused. "No... Francis mostly used me as a doll to dress up..."

"Well, Preben and Björn still have the bet going," Erik frowned.

"Who's in the lead?" Cécile asked and smiled.

"Preben actually," Erik replied and rolled his eyes. "Fell of his bike in January and broke his collar bone, left arm and five ribs, so he's now two fractures over Björn's total tally."

"They sound delightful," Cécile laughed softly. "So don't worry," she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I promise not to run away,"

"But if they make you uncomfortable in any way, you tell me and I'll give them both more fractures to add to their list,"

"My hero," Cécile smiled brightly. "But honestly, I'm looking forward to meeting them. But I might in retaliation drag you along to a family dinner with _my_ side,"

"Do I have to wear a suit?"

"Yes,"

"Urgh. Fair enough," Erik sighed.

"Just because you work from home doesn't mean you should always walk around in jeans and woolly jumpers," Cécile stifled a laugh and tugged at his apron. "Although you should wear this more often. You suit it,"

"With more or less clothes underneath?" Erik asked coyly.

"Once your son goes to bed...well, then I think you should wear only the apron," Cécile smirked.

"Remind me to lock the bedroom door then," Erik whispered in return.

Cécile tried to stop her ever-growing smile, but failed when Halldór tugged at her skirt and begged her to help him find the chocolate chips.

"We're trying to be healthy," Erik muttered, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate cookies for us all," Halldór and Cécile singsonged and grinned at him.

"You are both getting nothing but salad for the next week!" Erik grumbled and crossed his arms, trying to glare but looking anything _but_ frightening in his apron.

"Little dancers need chocolate to live," Cécile winked at him as she helped Halldór pour a bag of chocolate chips into the cookie batter.

"Well if that's the case then tired fathers need coffee," Erik grumbled.

"Excellent idea," Cécile smiled. "Visiting girlfriends won't mind some either,"

"Yeah, yeah," Erik waved lazily. "I'll get to it,"

"You've got him well trained," Cécile whispered to Halldór – just loud enough for Erik to hear.

"Who? Mt. Puffin?" Halldór looked at her questioningly as he pointed to his stuffed toy that was covered in flour.

"Mhm. Him too," Cécile giggled.

"Mr. Puffin made it snow," Halldór explained.

"Did he now?" Cécile glanced at Erik, who muttered something about kids and flour bags being a bad combination.

"Yes. Like this," Halldór grabbed a handful of flour and tossed in the air before Cécile could stop him – giggling as it rained down over them both.

Cécile frowned, glad she wasn't wearing anything dry-clean only as Halldór proceeded to do it again.

She should know better, but thanked Erik as he handed her a spare apron.

"Death before Decaf?" Cécile read the text and glanced at Erik.

"Gift from my brothers, before Natalia made us these ones," Erik smiled and pointed to the purple aprons he and Halldór were wearing.

"How fitting..." Cécile snickered and tied it around her waist, knowing it wouldn't be long until Halldór found another way to cover her clothes in flour.

By the time the cookies were in the oven and Erik had made them coffee, both her and Erik sported hair almost as white as Halldór's.  
The whole kitchen appeared to have had a snow storm rush through it, and while Erik tried to sweep and hoover it all up, Cécile got tasked with trying to contain Halldór's flour-covered body within the kitchen.

"Ah, ah, ah!" she tutted at Halldór when he tried run past her. "You're going nowhere but the bathtub looking like that,"

"I need to hoover him too," Erik laughed and watched at Halldór's struggling just covered Cécile in more flour, the apron to real use to her any more.

"Hoover us all," Cécile scoffed and tried to shake some of it off her long braid. "I can barely see anything! My glasses are covered too!"

"Stand still," Erik commanded and brushed them both over, pausing to wipe Cécile's glasses very carefully for her before placing them back on her face – smiling fondly at her.

"Thank you," Cécile sighed.

"Snow!" Halldór laughed happily.

"It's off to the bath with you," Erik laughed once he'd gotten most of the flour off himself as well. "You need to be hosed down a little."

"Cécile is going to bathe too?" Halldór asked and smiled hopefully.

"No," Cécile shook her head and hoped neither of them noticed her blushing.

"Cécile can shower once you're all done hogging the bathtub," Erik explained.

"But you bathe with me... why not Cécile?" Halldór pouted.

"Because, uh," Erik cleared his throat. "Cécile isn't very fond of..." he trailed of and glanced at Cécile for help.

"I'm not too fond of sharing baths," Cécile lied.

"But if I don't bring any toys in the bath?" Halldór asked and looked a little upset.

"Then your rubber duck and boats will be very sad," Erik replied.

"Oh... Okay," Halldór sighed dramatically. "Can you sing me a good night song then?" he asked Cécile.

"Yes, of course," Cécile smiled and kissed his forehead.

Halldór smiled brightly at that, and didn't fuss about having to be scrubbed clean of flour and cookie dough at all.

There was no need to dress nicely around a child, because no matter what she wore Halldór would find a way to ruin it.  
First with food and then with water.

He eagerly wanted to show her his collection of toy boats, and halfway through an elaborate story about how the miniature race-boat and cruise-ship were actually a modern Viking ship Halldór demonstrated the 'Viking' ships immense 'powers' by throwing them into the air – giggling as it splashed the both of them as the toys hit the water.

"You knew this would happen," Cécile shot Erik a nasty look – but Erik just laughed, standing safely in the doorway as Halldór proceeded to splash more water over Cécile.

Erik had to help her dry Halldór – because he kept trying to slip away and run naked down the hallway.

"Troll-children don't get cookies," Erik warned, and Cécile could only laugh at how quickly Halldór turned and let himself be both dried and changed into pyjamas.

Three cookies and a glass of milk after the bath was all the bribery he needed before he almost skipped off to bed with Cécile in tow.

"What lullaby would you like?" she asked him.

"Any!" Halldór giggled and wriggled happily under the covers.

Cécile hummed thoughtfully for a moment before settling for one her own mother had sung to her – hoping Halldór didn't mind being sung to in French.

To her delight he appeared to love it – if falling asleep with a smile on his face counted as love.  
Cécile decided to interpret it as such anyway.  
A happy Halldór was a good Halldór after all.


End file.
